


amor fati

by amazingturtle



Category: Twilight Series - All Media Types
Genre: Amnesia, F/M, Families of Choice, Female Friendship, Found Family, Human Alice Cullen, Kinda, Male-Female Friendship, Role Reversal, Roleswap, Vampire Bella Swan, alice sees/thinks about some concerning things, basically reworking things to make jasper and alice the main couple, because i have no shame, but please tell me if you think i can improve, do not respond to potentially serious mental health issues the way alice does, edward is freaking the fuck out, i've tried to be as sensitive as i can in handling this, precognition mistaken for mental illness
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-04-30
Updated: 2020-06-19
Packaged: 2021-03-02 03:07:54
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 2
Words: 12,421
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23928121
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/amazingturtle/pseuds/amazingturtle
Summary: Memory is a curious thing. Fragile. Alice knows that better than anyone. In the year since she stumbled into town, bleeding and alone, with nothing but her name to call her own, she's accepted that she may never be able to put the fractured pieces of her own back together again.But then she meets the Cullens with their familiar, haunting faces and everything changes. They terrify her, an instinctive, primal, hard to explain kind of fear that makes it hard for her to think. She wants to understand it, understand them. There has to be reason for all of this, the inexplicable deja vu they inspire in her — the way Jasper Cullen haunts her dreams. And if, as time goes on, she's becoming more and more convinced that it has something to do with her own mysterious past? Well, that's even better.
Relationships: Alice Cullen & Bella Swan, Alice Cullen & Charlie Swan, Alice Cullen & Edward Cullen, Alice Cullen & Jacob Black, Alice Cullen/Jasper Hale, Carlisle Cullen/Esme Cullen, Edward Cullen/Bella Swan, Emmett Cullen/Rosalie Hale, Jasper Hale & Rosalie Hale, Rosalie Hale & Bella Swan
Comments: 28
Kudos: 64





	1. one.

**Author's Note:**

> hey guys, what's up and welcome to amor fati! i'm gonna be open with you all from the start of this thing and tell you right now that this is all shameless self indulgence inspired by nose dive back into the twilight fandom over the past, like, week. i thought it'd be fun to play around with the characters a bit and try my hand at a bit of role reversal so here we are! feel free to drop a comment and tell me what you think. i've never written for this fandom before so any feedback would be appreciated!
> 
> the plan is to take this through to the end of the series, and while i plan on following the first book fairly closely things are gonna start to diverge in a major way after that. i'm aware of at least three major plot points that i'm going to need to address, but i'll be honest things are a bit up in the air after that for now. i can tell you that there will be no demon babies here, so sorry if that disappoints you in anyway.
> 
> so yeah. enjoy!
> 
> my twilight tumblr is justhaletwins things so feel free to come chat!

_amor fati (latin): "love of fate" or "love of one's fate". an attitude in which one sees everything that happens in one's life, including suffering and loss, as good or, at the very least, necessary._

**one.**

“Is that her?”

“Yeah, they brought her in half an hour ago.”

“She looks a wreck, the poor thing...”

“What do you suppose happened to her?”

The voices carry loudly in the quiet, no matter how desperately their owners try to keep them low. She tries to ignore them from her seat against the back wall, legs tucked up against her chest like a shield. They make it rather difficult though, with the way they keep carrying on as if she's deaf or something. God but she wishes they’d all just shut up. Her arms come up to wrap around her legs, fingers clutching clumsily at her clothes. She’s been on edge since she got here and all the attention isn’t helping.

People keep _looking_ at her, all sideways glances and about faces like that will make it any less obvious. It makes her uncomfortable. Like ants crawling under her skin. Not that she doesn’t understand the impulse; she’s sure she makes for a real sorry sight. She'd gotten a jacket somewhere along the way, and some boots too, but her bare legs are still slick with mud and blood that is trickling through the gaps in her chair to stain the linoleum below. Her finger nails are ragged and bloody, her hair shorn short and messy. She’s sure her face doesn’t look much better. Knowing _why_ doesn’t make the staring any less unbearable though.

A door slams open and suddenly the room becomes a whole lot louder. A group of police officers file in, talking in loud, sharp voices. Something bubbles up in her chest at the noise, hot and constricting. It makes her want to run. That’s a stupid idea though, and she knows it. Where would she go? She doesn’t even know where she is. 

The thought is sobering. She curls further into herself, tightening the vice of her arms around her knees. It’s fine. She’ll figure this out. It’s fine.

One of the police officers breaks off from the group and begins to make his way towards her. Instinctively, she tenses, angling her body towards him defensively. He’s not a tall man, or a particularly well built one, but he’s still probably stronger than her.

It takes a second for her to recognise him. But then the sterile light of the station cuts across his face, throwing the stern features, dark eyes and bushy moustache into stark relief, and something in her head slots into place. It’s the man from the woods. The one who'd found her there, wandering, half-naked and feeling a little more than half-dead. The jacket he'd given her still hangs limply from her shoulders, about ten sizes too big for her small frame. She twists her fingers in the material as she watches him, dark eyes wary.

 _Trust no one, dear heart,_ a familiar-unfamiliar voice echoes in her head. She doesn’t intend to disregard the advice.

He approaches slowly, as if she’s some kind of wounded animal. It looks like he expects her to shatter like glass beneath his fingertips as he reaches out to rest a cautious hand on her shoulder. That’s fair. She isn’t entirely sure she won’t herself.

“How you holding up, kiddo?” His voice is gruff but not unkind. It reminds her of something (someone?) that she can’t quite place. It frustrates her. 

She looks back at him blankly for a long moment.

He’s patient with her though, waiting. It surprises her just how grateful she is for that. Eventually she swallows, working her throat. “I’m...” Her voice comes out even rougher than his, raw and almost painful. “Fine, I think.”

“That’s good.” He sounds like he really means it, and the sincerity throws her a little off balance. She blinks. And then nods, as if he’d asked for her agreement.

He smiles, a small thing that makes his face into something much softer. “Listen, I know this has been a real tough night for you, kiddo, but I need to know if you remember anything else besides what you told me when we got here.” She barely remembers what that even was. Not that it means much, since she barely remembers much of anything at all. “I know you told me you didn’t, but I need you to try for me. Can you do that?”

“I'm sorry,” she says, unable to stop her arms from drawing her legs tighter into her body. “I don’t...”

“Hey, no, that’s fine kid,” the man hastens to reassure. “Just make sure to let me know if anything comes up, alright?” 

“Okay,” she hopes it doesn’t sound as noncommittal to his ears as it does her own. “But, uh, who are you, exactly? Sorry.” She adds quickly when she sees him reel back a little. 

He flushes slightly. “Ah no, kid, don’t worry about it,” he says gruffly. “Just used to being recognised on sight, I s'pose. Chief Swan of the Forks Police Department. You can call me Charlie though, if that’s easier.”

“Nice to meet you,” she responds, driven by some unspoken instinct, “I'm Alice.” And then she freezes, blinking rapidly. _Alice_. It sounds right, falling from her lips as naturally as her breath.

Charlie seems to notice her surprise, moustache rippling as he reaches out again to squeeze her shoulder gently. Tensing is an ingrained response, and though she tries to hide it she doesn’t quite succeed. Charlie’s brow furrows slightly but he doesn’t comment – something else to be grateful for. She couldn’t explain it even if he asked.

“There we are, kid,” he says. “Making progress already. Don’t you worry, everything’s gonna be just fine. We’ll make sure nothing bad happens to you, alright Alice?”

It’s beyond stupid, but with those kind eyes looking at her like that, and the gentle heat of the first human contact she can remember receiving lingering on her skin, Alice almost wants to believe him.

***

“Charlie, I'm off! See you at dinner!” Alice doesn’t bother waiting for a response, letting the door swing shut behind her as she skips down the drive. If she let him, he'd delay them both by at least another twenty minutes, asking in that awkward way of his if she had everything and if she was nervous and if she was really sure about this. And any other time she might indulge him, but not today. As fond as she’s come to be of the man, she refuses to be late to her first day of actual high school. First impressions are everything, after all.

And, well, she’d never tell him this, but his lack of faith in her kind of rankles. She gets it. Really, she does. She’s not sure how much she’d trust the crazy amnesiac she’d found on the side of the road either if their positions were reversed, but that doesn’t make it sting any less. Besides, she’s nervous enough as it is; she doesn’t need him making it worse.

She hops into her car and gets it going with the ease of practice. It’s a tiny thing, an old bottle red Volkswagen Beetle that she absolutely adores. Charlie had initially tried to pawn his friend Billy Black's old truck off on her but Alice had put her foot down. The thing was ugly as hell. And probably one sharp turn away from a complete breakdown. Like hell would she be the one who had to deal with that, Charlie’s friend or no.

So they’d compromised. Charlie had agreed to pay a little extra to get his hands on the Beetle, which had belonged to Billy's daughter Rebecca before she swanned off to Hawaii with her new husband, and in exchange Alice would see to any work the car needed doing herself. Which, as it turned out, had been a lot. Luckily, Jacob Black was both a budding mechanical genius and easily swayed by the promise of baked goods. Not a half bad teacher either, actually, though she still was far from confident enough to be doing any serious maintenance by herself. Alice had come out of the whole affair one car and one friend heavier, which in hindsight might have been Charlie's plan all along.

The drive to Forks, Washington's only high school is uneventful. Which, normally, wouldn’t be a problem, but today of all days just gives Alice more time to psyche herself up. By the time she’s pulling into the still deserted parking lot at the front of the main building, she’s all but vibrating with a boundless kind of restless energy. She as good as leaps from the car, slinging her bag over her shoulder and making a beeline for the main office.

It seems rather small for what it is, from the outside at least, but then what does Alice know? Maybe all schools look like this. 

The inside is even tinier, if that’s possible. Alice takes it all in with an avid interest; the awards on the wall, the small waiting area at the front, the ghastly orange tinge to the carpet. A large clock is leant against one wall, ticking away loudly, and seemingly every other available surface is covered in one potted plant or another, making the place look even more cramped than it is. In short, it looks nothing at all like the teen movies she’d watched in preparation for this moment had told her it would. Alice feels her lips spring up into a grin. Good. She'd had a hard time getting into them anyway.

“Hello,” she chirps, prancing over to the only occupied desk. “I'm Alice Swan, I've come to get my schedule?” The surname had been a big thing, in Charlie’s quiet, unspoken way. Obviously Alice couldn’t use her old one on account of having no clue what it was, and at the time Alice Doe had just felt like salt in the wound. It'd left her in quite the pickle, legally speaking. She couldn’t just _not_ have a last name after all. It hadn’t been until Charlie had suggested over dinner one night that she take his name, voice a little too airy to truly be casual, that a solution had presented itself. Frankly, it’d taken an embarrassingly short amount of time for her to agree. 

She likes being Alice Swan. It makes them feel like a real family.

The red haired woman behind the counter looks up, glasses sliding down her nose at the suddenness of the movement. Her eyes are curious, assessing. Alice refuses to let her smile drop at the scrutiny. She'd expected this. 

“Oh, of course!” The woman – Mrs Cope, according to her name plaque – says in realisation. “Just wait one second, I've got a map for you here too.”

“Oh, that’s fine,” Alice says with an easy shrug. “I like your glasses, by the way. They really suit you.”

Mrs Cope looks back up at her for a moment, as if not quite sure whether the compliment is genuine or not. Alice shoots her another smile, sincere as she can make it. She can pinpoint the moment the older woman softens towards her, lips curling into a smile of her own. “Thank you,” she says with a nod, before flicking her gaze back down to the papers in front of her.

Alice beams. This is great. Hell, this is _easy_. She’s got this in the _bag_.

After she digs up her schedule, Mrs Cope takes the time to walk her through a map of the campus, highlighting the best path to each of her classes. She also produces a slip that she’s apparently to have each of her teachers sign, before packing her off with a wave and a smile. Alice slips back into her car and heads for the student parking lot. 

It’s actually starting to fill up when she arrives, a steady trickle of traffic moving in to claim any empty parking spots. Alice doesn’t put too much thought to it beyond making sure to nab an end spot for herself because, as she’s recently learned, she has a bad habit of swerving a tad on the take off. Jacob's given her _so_ much shit about it in the months since that first near miss. Which, whatever. It’s fine. Not everyone is a goddamn automotive genius. 

She takes a deep breath, giving herself one last look over in the centre mirror. She looks good. Or at least far better than she _did_. The gaunt hollowness has finally abandoned her features, the sickly pallor of her skin toning down into a more natural paleness and her ink black hair brushing her jaw in an artfully messy cut, as opposed to the previous uneven chunks. So what if she'd maybe over dressed a tad in a fit of panic? Her ruffled blouse and ankle booties are still cute as hell. Really, it could be _so_ much worse. The thought is enough of a confidence boost to get her up and out the door. 

One hand white knuckling the strap of her bag, Alice plasters a smile on her face and makes her way inside. It’s all going to be fine. More than fine, actually. Like she said, she’s got this high school thing in the _bag_.

***

As it turns out, she does not, in fact, have this in the bag. 

English passes without major incident, but that doesn’t make it fun. She hands in the slip Mrs Cope gave her to be signed and is relegated to an empty seat at the back of the room, which does little to stop the staring of her new classmates. Not that she thought it would, really, but, well, one can dream. It makes her just as uncomfortable as it always has, though she likes to think she’s gotten better at hiding it over the last year. No one even bothers actually trying to talk to her – too spooked by the town amnesiac maybe – which just makes the whole thing even more awkward. By the time class actually starts she’s half wishing she’d stayed at home after all.

Tight smile still firmly in place, Alice flicks a look over the reading list. Nothing she’s read before, unsurprisingly. It would honestly shock her more if there was something she recognised on there. Catching up on classic lit hasn’t exactly been her priority lately and she rather doubts that Harry Potter is of the appropriate literary standard to be a serious topic of study.

It isn’t until the bell rings that any of her classmates actually builds up the courage to pounce.

“You’re Alice, right?” A dark haired boy asks, appearing seemingly out of absolutely nowhere.

She jumps, barely managing to catch herself before she sends a textbook flying. Heads snap towards the noise and she feels her embarrassment stain her cheeks. Still, when she turns to face the boy it’s with a smile. “Yeah, that’s me! It’s nice to meet you...” 

“Eric,” he provides.

“Nice to meet you, Eric,” she repeats, more firmly his time, extending a hand.

He seems surprised by the gesture, and then delighted. “You too!” His skin is hot and clammy when he reaches out to grasp her hand, and he holds on for just a little too long. Alice doesn’t let herself grimace. “Need any help getting to your next class?”

“Yeah, that’d be nice. Thanks.”

“Oh, it’s no problem!”

He leads her across campus with all the confidence of military high command, peppering her with questions all the while. She’s sure at least half of the people they pass in the surrounding corridors are listening in. She doesn’t dare to hope that means she’ll only have to endure the interrogation once.

“So what’s it like living with the Chief?”

“Pretty cool really. He’s a nice man.”

“Yeah, he seems it. Must be hard though. I doubt you’ve managed to get much real fun in yet, have you?”

“Oh, it’s not so bad. Charlie’s not very strict.”

“Huh, really? I can’t imagine _that_. Law enforcement, y'know?” She doesn’t but she smiles and nods anyway. “I bet there’s loads of things you’ve wanted to try that you can’t do with him though, right?” Dark brows raise implicatively. 

Not really. “Well, I suppose that’s what I'm here for, isn’t it? To meet people like you that I _can_ do those things with.” She beams at him, trying to channel the cheerful energy and charm of some of the girls she’s seen on television. She isn’t sure how successful she is.

Eric flushes a bright pink, looking pleased. “Yeah, I guess.” 

He drops her off at the door, but not before securing a promise to come find him at lunch. Alice waves him off with a smile and an agreement. He’s harmless, really. The aggressive questioning is a bit annoying, but she hadn’t really expected any less. And he hadn’t pressed her on anything truly sensitive. For that alone, she decides that she likes him.

The rest of the morning passes in a similar manner. She’s subjected to various introductions and questions about how she likes Forks, which she tries to field with grace. It’s a lot of names and faces though, and while she tries to commit them all to memory, she gets the feeling she’s going to have to ask for more than one clarification. It isn’t so bad though. She doesn’t mind talking to people. Only one teacher even bothers to make her introduce herself to the class which, while awkward, isn’t the worst thing in the world. By the time the lunch bell rings she’s almost enjoying herself.

***

Jessica, a girl about the size of Alice herself with hair twice as large, leads her into the lunch room with an air of great superiority. People stare as they pass but Alice is getting used to it by now. It’s like the first few days that she was let out to wander the town alone all over again. She hopes people lose interest here just as quickly though she isn’t holding her breath. High school is a much different beast than the rest of the known world, or so all the teen movies Jacob plied her with have told her.

She lets herself be herded towards one of the larger tables and ushered into a seat, pleased to see that Eric is already at the table. That’s good. It wouldn’t be nice to have to choose between the most promising of her tentative friendships this early on. Or at all really.

“This is Alice,” Jessica announces, as if presenting some kind of rare and exotic creature. “Alice, this is Mike, Eric, Ben, Angela, Lauren and Tyler.”

“We’ve already met,” Eric interjects, puffing out his chest like a peacock and completely denying anyone else the chance to speak. “How's your first day been, Alice?”

“Alright so far,” she responds, shooting him an easy smile before she turns her attention to the group as a whole. He seems to wilt slightly at the dismissal but bounces back quickly enough, thank God. She doesn’t want to upset him. “It’s nice to meet you all.”

“Yeah, and you,” Mike, a puppyish blonde, responds eagerly. “Don’t worry, I've done the whole new kid thing here too. It’s awful isn’t it?”

Alice laughs. “I wouldn’t say that. All the staring is a bit much though,” she adds as an afterthought.

Mike nods sagely. “Yeah, people here can be like that. They’re not used to having fresh new faces to look at.”

“Like you haven’t been just as bad as everyone else,” Lauren scoffs, flicking a curtain of silvery blonde hair over one shoulder. “Not that I understand why,” she gives Alice a disdainful once over, “there isn’t much to look _at_.”

Alice blinks, more than a little startled by the sudden vitriol. 

“Lauren!” Mike and Eric hiss out in tandem, before she even has the chance to respond. Even Jessica looks a little scandalised, and the girl doesn’t strike Alice as the type to get hung up on petty comments. At least not when they weren’t directed at her.

“What?” The blonde snaps. “Just because you’re all up her ass doesn’t me I have to be.”

“Oh my God, Laur, there’s a difference--"

“Sorry about her,” a quiet voice murmurs, and Alice looks over to see a pretty, dark haired girl staring at her with apologetic eyes. Angela, she remembers. “She’s probably just jealous that she isn’t the centre of attention right now, that’s all.”

“Oh, no, it’s alright,” Alice is quick to reassure. “Just wasn’t expecting that is all.”

“She can be a bit...” Angela jerks her head towards the other girl, “much. She means well though. Mostly.”

Alice laughs, repeating again that it’s fine. The bickering across the table seems to simmer down a little at the sound, and suddenly all eyes are on her again. Lauren scoffs but doesn’t try to continue the argument. Conversation flows a bit more freely after that, though Alice notices that Lauren refuses to say a single word to her. She tries not to let it bother her.

Things are going quite well on the whole, actually. She's actually made the mistake of letting herself start to relax before things take a turn.

Mike is in the middle of recounting a – clearly exaggerated – story about an attempted theft at his family's store when it happens. The door on the far side of the cafeteria swings open, and in walks a group of the most beautiful people Alice has ever seen.

There’s five of them in total – three boys and two girls. They look alike in that they all look perfect, but beyond that she’s hard pressed to pick out a single consistent feature between them. There isn’t one shared jawline among them, no two sporting the exact same colouring. So different and yet so similar.

Of the boys, one is tall, bulky, with close cropped dark curls and a cheerful face. Another is a head or two shorter with a far leaner build, his honey blonde hair shining under the artificial lights of the cafeteria. There is an obvious stiffness to the line of his shoulders, even as he moves across the room with enviable grace. The last looks to be the youngest, shorter than the others and built more lankily, with a shock of bronze hair sprouting from his skull.

The first of the two girls is statuesque, a blonde bombshell in every sense of the word. She’s undeniably gorgeous, walking with a confidence that is both obvious and obviously deserved. That’s not to say that the other girl isn’t beautiful, of course, just differently so. There’s something softer about her dark curls and comparatively understated presence. More attainable. It’s the difference between a movie star and the pretty girl who lives down the street.

They make their way across the room in silence, seemingly oblivious to the eyes following them in a way that Alice truly envies. As they pass she makes sure to get a closer look at them; the chalky paleness of their skin, the dark shadows under their eyes, the eerie perfection of their features. It’s... familiar. She’s seen it before, she knows she has. Some kind of base instinct deep within her is set off by it, a bone deep primal terror flaring through her system without warning or consent. Her hands ball up unwillingly into tight fists.

The blonde boy whips his head around to face her, amber eyes locking suddenly with her own. Alice stops breathing. An unbearable tension sweeps through her body, freezing her stiff. She holds his gaze, unmoving. There’s something wrong with the picture he makes though, not quite what she was expecting. It’s the eyes, something about the eyes is off, she thinks—

There’s no time to dwell on that though, because the second she gets a good look at his face the world stops. She knows that face. The full lips, the sculpted jaw, the severe brow, she _knows_ it. The same way she knew her name or the alphabet or that the capital of Turkey is Ankara. A pure, instinctive kind of knowledge that has stuck with her through trauma and memory loss and God knows what else. Her jaw drops a little, entirely without her consent. 

Vaguely, she realises that she’s shaking, just a bit, a heady mix of fear, familiarity and adrenaline clouding her bloodstream.

The boy's brow furrows, the slightest of frowns tugging at his lips. It makes her heart stutter in her chest. Alice lets out a slow, steadying breath – and feels the tension start to leave her body, slowly and then all at once. The blonde finally breaks the eye contact, reaching out to tap the bronze haired boy on the shoulder. Alice snaps back into reality, forcing the unwelcome thoughts to the back of her mind as she finally remembers how to breathe correctly. She returns her attention to her own table to find everyone staring at her, more than a little wide eyed. Oh, God.

“What the hell was that?” Jessica demands.

“I have no idea,” Alice says with complete honesty, relieved when her voice only wavers a little.

“You know who that was right?” The brunette persists, eyes insistent. Not even Lauren tries to protest the sudden Alice-centric shift of the conversation.

“No,” she says, already knowing that it’s the wrong answer. What else is she supposed to do though? Lie?

Jessica looks as scandalised as she'd expected, though her delight at being the one who gets to share the gossip quickly takes precedence. “That,” she says conspiratorially, voice low, “was Jasper Cullen. The others are Edward and Rosalie Cullen and Emmett and Bella McCarthy. They all live just out of town with Dr. Cullen and his wife.”

The Cullens. Hearing the name makes something click in her head. “Oh,” she says in sudden understanding, “the ones who moved here from Alaska a few years back, right? I hadn’t seen any of them in person before.” Alice angles another surreptitious look at their newly occupied table, watching as they sit, silent and blank faced, amidst the chaos of the lunch room. It calls to mind all the rumours she’s heard over the past year – cults and incest and blood sacrifices. She'd thought they were ridiculous at the time. Now she’s not so sure. 

“They’re gorgeous right?” Jessica asks, giggling slightly.

“Yeah,” Alice agrees, because there’s really no denying it, even if she does still feel that rabbitish undercurrent of fear whenever she looks at one of them for too long. She averts her eyes. The feeling is more muted now, less blindingly intense than before. She’s grateful for it. It makes it easier to think. “Which ones are which?” She asks, desperate to keep her mind moving, distracted from the creeping sense of ice dripping down her spine. “None of them look related...”

“Oh, they’re not, apart from Emmett and Bella that is. That’s the big one and the girl with the dark hair, the foster kids. I think they’re Mrs. Cullen's niece and nephew or something. The rest are adopted.” She shrugs. “Their parents are, like, super young. Early thirties at the oldest.”

Alice blinks. “That’s nice of them,” she says, a little uncertain, “to take in all those kids despite being so young themselves...” Unbidden, her thoughts are drawn back to Charlie and his gruff but easy kindness. She feels herself soften slightly towards the Cullens despite herself.

“Yeah, I guess,” Jessica shrugs in clear dismissal. “But I think it’s because Mrs. Cullen can’t have kids or something like that.”

Alice hums noncommittally in response. She doesn’t like the tone, or the implication that being infertile would in some way lessen the Cullens’ kindness. Learning that Charlie had only taken her in because he couldn’t have children of his own wouldn’t make her any less grateful to him, and she’s sure those kids feel the same. Something gives her the impression that saying so wouldn’t go down very well though. And well... she’s not _entirely_ certain it’s true. Her eyes flit over the Cullens again, quickly diverting when she sees the youngest boy shoot a glance in their direction. There’s something off there that she can’t quite put words to. Her moment of inexplicable terror flashes quickly through her mind.

Jessica doesn’t seem satisfied by her silence. “That’s not the really scandalous thing though,” she leans in close as if about to impart some great secret. “They’re all together. Like together-together. Edward and Bella and Rosalie and Emmett I mean.” She flicks an obvious glance over at them, mouth tightening at something she sees. “It’s super weird.”

Well, one of the rumours is apparently true then. Alice wonders what that says about the others. She isn’t really sure she wants to find out.

“Oh, give it a rest, Jessie,” Tyler calls from across the table, rolling his eyes. “Can we not talk about something else for once?”

Jessica scowls. “Don’t call me that.”

Tyler grins. “Why not? You gonna stop me?”

Alice stifles a smile of her own, watching as Jessica puffs herself up like she’s about to start swinging. Then she feels a light tap on her shoulder and looks up to see Angela standing behind her, smiling kindly. “I was gonna head off to Biology early, if you want to join,” she explains at Alice’s curious look.

Alice shoots a quick glance back at the rest of the table, where Tyler and Jessica's argument seems to be starting to heat up. “Yeah, sounds good,” she agrees. Angela laughs softly.

***

The walk to Biology is pleasant enough. Angela is a sweet girl, soft spoken and more than willing to let Alice ramble freely. It’s the first opportunity she’s had to do so all day, and frankly she needs it. She talks about anything and everything – her classes, which teachers she’s had so far, some of the people she’s met. It’s good for her. It brings her back down from the emotional high that was lunch and her almost-not-quite break down. 

Now that she’s actually removed from the situation, away from the distraction of the cafeteria, Alice can feel the nerves starting to bubble up under her skin again. She keeps glancing around, half expecting one of the Cullens to appear out of nowhere and... attack her, or something. Which is ridiculous. She knows that, of course she does, but the fear is still there. She tries to force it back like she had earlier, letting out another deep, steadying breath. It isn’t as effective as she'd like.

“Are you alright, Alice?”

“Fine,” she chirps, summoning another beaming smile. Angela looks like she isn’t quite sure she believes her. She doesn’t comment though, which is all that really matters.

When they reach the classroom they separate, Angela making her way to her seat at the back of the class while Alice takes up a post at the front of the room, waiting for the teacher to arrive. He seems to recognise her instantly when he does, waving her over to assign her seat and deal with her paperwork.

By the time she turns back to face the class proper most of the other students have already arrived. Including—oh. Edward Cullen. Her lab partner, apparently. That’s... well, it sure is a thing. Steeling herself, she makes her way over and slides into the seat next to him, avoiding eye contact.

She takes a moment to organise her things, mentally preparing herself for the inevitable. Gooseflesh raises on her arms, the hairs on the back of her neck standing on end. It takes an embarrassingly long time to work up the guts to even look at the guy, fiddling with her notebook and pens for a good minute or two before she finally gives up the ghost. Then, with a calming breath, she straightens her spine and turns to face him head on. She expects the same sickening sense of deja vu that had struck her when she made eye contact with his brother, a dizzying sort of recollection. That’s not what she gets though. She meets the dark, curious eyes of Edward Cullen, and then – someone takes a hammer to her skull.

Edward leaps up and out of his seat, lunging for her throat—

Except, no, he doesn’t, he gives her a polite smile a turns to face the teacher—

She feels teeth, ripping and tearing and grinding—

The lecture starts and they ignore each other. There’s no partner work necessary and besides, Alice really needs to focus—

He slams her head into the desk, teeth still latched viciously to her jugular. Once, twice, three times. She cries out in pain. The screaming finally starts, somewhere in the background—

Mr. Banner goes on and on about cellular anatomy, and try as she might she just can’t get it. It frustrates her. Especially since Edward’s own understanding is so clearly effortless. Perks of having a doctor for a father, she thinks bitterly—

There’s a sickening gurgling sound, and it takes a long, terrible moment for her to realise that it’s coming from her. It feels like her body is being burned away from the inside out. Her blood screams in her veins even as she chokes on it—

Class ends and they exchange a polite nod. Edward leaves while Alice waits for Mike and Angela at the door—

She snaps back to reality. A loud gasp escapes her throat as she rocks back in her chair, hands grasping desperately at the underside. Squeezing her eyes closed, she begins to count backwards from one hundred in her head, trying to soothe her breathing. _Which one is real_ , her mind wonders frantically, _which one?_ But there’s no time to think about that, her mind quickly subsumed by the sense of oh, _God_ no, it happened again. It was supposed to have _stopped_ , fuck. She doesn’t need this right now, _she doesn’t_. 

A quiet noise sounds to her left and her eyes snap open, head jerking to the side. Edward Cullen stares back at her with wide, horrified eyes. Alice’s breath catches in her throat. 

_He knows,_ some irrational part of her brain insists, _he knows_. Alice forces it back. That’s ridiculous, of course it is. _But then why is he looking at me like—_

The sound of Mr. Banner's voice startles her, making her jump again. She spins around to face the front of the room, shaking her head aggressively. She’ll... she'll deal with all _that later_. This isn’t the time or the place. Another long, shuddering breath escapes her. Her hands tremble.

She hears Edward turn in his own seat but doesn’t bother to look over, keeping her eyes fixed resolutely forward. The lecture goes in one ear out the other, her brain all but fried to mush. She doesn’t even try to take notes, even though she knows she’ll need them later. The whole time, she keeps as much space between herself and Edward as possible. Whenever he moves a little too quickly in her periphery her heart starts hammer in her chest, breath quickening.

They don’t speak.


	2. two.

**two.**

She doesn’t tell Charlie – not about the incident at lunch and certainly not about the whole sorry affair in Biology. He'd only make her tell her therapist and she knows somewhere deep in her bones that that wouldn’t end well. For her or anyone else. It’s... it's just best to leave well enough alone.

So instead she smiles and laughs and jokes her way through the evening’s meal, an assortment of greasy goodness served at the local diner as a sort of first-day-at-school celebration. It’s a good showing if she does say so herself. So much so that even she almost starts to believe that there's nothing amiss.

“You had a good day then?” Charlie asks again, a certain unspoken awkwardness to his voice. Not as much as there would have been had they been having this conversation a year (or hell even six months) ago, but, well, that isn’t saying much. He’s trying though. Alice appreciates that. “No one gave you any trouble?”

“Well,” she says in consideration, “there was this one girl who didn’t seem to like me much, but I guess that’s to be expected, right?” Teeth working at her lower lip, she shrugs. “Can’t please everyone.”

Charlie nods into his glass. “No, definitely not.” His voice has a wry tinge to it. “None of them tried to pick on you though, did they?”

_ Edward Cullen taking her by the throat, ramming her skull into— _

Alice laughs. “No, no, of course not! Nothing like that.” She grins at him, leaning over to swipe a fry off his plate. “Some people just don’t click, y'know?”

Charlie gives her a long look. Then he huffs a breath, small smile visible even under his moustache. “That’s good then,” he says gruffly. “But you would tell me if it wasn’t, right kid? If something was wrong?”

It's sweet of him to be so concerned. She thinks that other teenagers might be annoyed by it, might take it as a lack of trust, but it doesn't bother her. It's still a novel thing, having someone care about her. And worrying about the treatment of her classmates is different from implying she can't cope with living a normal life, unwitting or not. She can handle one far better than the other.

Alice smiles. “Of course, Charlie.”

*******

She stands in a room she recognises in the vaguest of senses, though she is almost certain she has never actually entered it before in her life. It’s a handsome place, all sharp lines and sleek, modern edges. The architecture and interior design alike are undeniably flawless, the furniture arranged at precise angles with complementary colours and tones lining the walls. There's a strange, almost impersonal feel to it though, as if no real people have ever actually lived here. More akin to a store showroom than a home, if she's truly honest. She starts to make her way forward, striding more fully into the room.

The sun is warm on her skin as she goes, soothing in the way of a mother's caress. It trickles in through the large plate-glass windows in increments, casting half shadows as it streaks across the hardwood floor and glints against the polished surfaces of the furniture. Alice hums lowly somewhere in the back of her throat as she reaches out to run a careful hand along the array of dainty ornaments lining the sideboard. Her fingers come to rest over a pair of brass cats. They're tall, slim things with intricate detailing and she plucks one up in a hand, holding it up to the light, admiring. 

"Bella bought them for Esme a few years back," An unfamiliar voice calls from somewhere behind her. It's a nice voice, low and measured but still somehow musical, hints of an unidentifiable accent lingering about the edges. She wants to know who it belongs to but she can't bring herself to turn around just yet, or even to respond at all. "She and Emmett like to get her gifts, though he tends to prefer flowers. Their way of saying thank you, I think."

"You don’t do the same then, I take it?” She sets the cat back down next to its twin, movements careful. They're positioned to the right of a crystal glass vase in which a small bouquet of lilies are held. It makes sense, she supposes, for the gifts to be kept close to one another in this place of honour. 

"Not really," the voice allows, "though I like to think I show my gratitude in other ways."

Alice feels a smile tugging at her lips. "Gifts aren't your love language then?"

"I'm sorry, what?" He sounds genuinely confused. Alice spins around to face him, grinning wider now as she leans back against the sideboard. 

Jasper Cullen stares back at her, tawny eyes narrowed ever so slightly as they peer out at her from behind a curtain of honey blonde locks. He's reclining against the door frame, lingering in the shadows on the far side of the room. He's beautiful, though that's hardly news. Strangely, looking at him doesn't inspire the same unease she's come to expect. Instead she feels a warm surge of – something. Not quite affection, yet nothing so distant as plain admiration. It settles somewhere beneath her breast bone, too firm to shake loose.

"Your love language," she repeats cheerfully. "You know, the way you prefer to give and receive affection? Mine's words of affirmation; I like people to tell me that they care."

"I'll keep that in mind," he responds dryly, a wry kind of amusement playing at his lips.

"See that you do," she says, sticking her nose up in the air, as haughty as she can make it. And then she laughs, easing back into a more natural stance. "You strike me as an acts of service kind of guy yourself," she adds conversationally. "Or maybe physical affection. Devotion through actions and all that."

"I'll admit, this is one of the stranger psychoanalyses I've been on the receiving end off."

Alice snorts despite herself, biting back another grin. “Now I don’t believe  _ that _ for a second. Freud would have a field day with your entire family.” She wiggles her brows at him suggestively.

He scoffs, tossing his head slightly, and when he speaks his voice is desert dry. “Because we should all bow to the superior psychological wisdom of  _ Sigmund Freud _ .” His disdain is palpable.

Holding her hands up in front of her defensively, she throws her eyebrows up high on her forehead. “Never said we should,” she keeps her voice light, teasing, “I just think it’s unlikely that you haven’t all traumatised your fair share of therapists over the years.”

It strikes her, suddenly, that that was probably a rather rude thing to say. She makes to back track, apologise, but Jasper cuts her off with a snort.

“Ah, but that’d require us to actually get therapy. As much as Carlisle might approve, I don’t see that happening anytime soon.” He sounds amused as he pushes off the wall and starts to make his way over to her. A sunbeam glances across the side of his face and he seems to glow in the pale light, hair shining like a halo. “Besides, I don’t think any therapist of ours would last very long.” And then, face cast again in shadow, he smiles, white teeth flashing dangerously.

Alice startles awake, the warmth of an imagined sun still lingering on her skin. She sits up in bed, flicking on the light as she fumbles with the glass of water at her bedside. The dream dances across her mind in a loop, its clarity barely tarnished by her sudden wakefulness – she rarely forgets her dreams, and this is no exception. It isn't the only dream she's had tonight, but it's certainly the most vivid.

The others have all been the usual fare: Jessica and Lauren painting each other's nails, Angela and a man who Alice thinks must be her father getting dinner together, a boy she recognises from English taking his sister dress shopping. It’s the same array of people she knows doing mundane things that she sees every night, just with a few extra faces thrown in for flavour. She wonders what makes the Jasper dream so special.

Except, no, she doesn’t. She’s fairly certain she _knows_ , in vague terms at least, what makes it special – it’s the same thing that sent her spiralling as soon as she locked eyes with him earlier this afternoon. Now if she could only figure out what exactly that _was_ she’d be set.

She abandons the bed entirely, making for the bathroom to splash her flushed face with water. The tiled floor is biting cold against her feet but she pays it no mind. Her hands grasp the cool porcelain of the sink as she lets the water run for a minute, the steady noise soothing to her ears. Her face in the mirror looks distinctly haggard, hair sticking up every which way as water droplets roll along her pale skin. 

The Cullens are weird. It may sound rich coming from her but that doesn’t make it any less true. Everyone in town thinks it, even those who won’t say so out loud, so it isn’t just her projecting either. A subtle (or maybe not so subtle) offness hangs about them and Alice is certain she isn’t the only one who feels it. There has to be a reason they frighten her so much, for her vis– _ hallucination _ in Biology.

Sighing, she twists the tap off, returning to her room and flinging herself unceremoniously on top of her little ball of rolled up blankets and cushions. She stares blankly up at the ceiling.

She’s had flashes like that before. In the early days, mostly, back before she’d found her footing with Charlie and, well, everything else. They stopped by themselves, eventually. For the most part, at least. She's... never actually told anyone about them. They’re not  _ hurting  _ her or anything, haven’t made her do anything stupid or reckless, and—

And it sounds utterly ridiculous but she’s kind of started to see them as an early warning system of sorts. They only ever seem to come when there’s some kind of imminent mortal peril that she needs to be aware of – honestly, if the flashes are to be believed she spent her entire first week in Forks dancing on a knife’s edge between life and death. And, yes, she  _ knows  _ that’s a dangerous line of thought to take. Hallucinations are one thing but delusions about the  _ nature _ of those hallucinations are quite another.

Except some primal part of her rails against the thought of visitations and medication. Except she’s  _ tried  _ to ignore the flashes before, to brush them off as the confused imaginings of her damaged mind. Only once though, before she was quickly cured of  _ that _ . She’d been down at La Push with Charlie and the Blacks at the time, hiking along the cliffs with Jacob and some of his friends. The boys had run off ahead while she hung back to take in the sights. It had been her first time up there and she was curious; she may have strayed a bit too close to the cliff’s edge as a result. 

That’s when she’d gotten the...  _ hallucination.  _ It was a short one – a quick this or that comparing an image of her strolling along the clifftop with one of her plummeting toward the rocks below. Come and gone in a matter of seconds. Admittedly, stubbornly striding over to where she’d seen the fall occur probably wasn’t the brightest idea she’s ever had. She’d just been so  _ pissed off  _ with it all, had wanted it to just stop. And, well, she’s no psychologist but she’d been fairly certain that allowing your hallucinations to dictate your actions wasn’t the right way to go. Though in hindsight defying them so directly likely wasn't the best plan either.

When the ground gave way beneath her feet, she really shouldn’t have been as surprised as she was.

She would have died that day had Jacob not been there. He’d lunged after her, catching her by the arm and hauling her back to stable ground. She hadn’t even seen him coming. She doesn’t know  _ what _ that says about the validity of the flashes, but she  _ can  _ pinpoint it as the moment that she decided she and Jacob Black were going to be great friends. Which they are, so. Score one to her.

But that's not the point. If she’s seeing things about the Cullens, about  _ Edward _ – she has no reason not to take it seriously. Her fear is justified, she knows that somewhere deep in her bones. She isn’t going to let her guard down around them and end up… however that sorry story in Biology was going to end. She has no idea how she diverted that one but she is  _ unspeakably  _ glad she did. Charlie would have been crushed. 

And, well, then there's the matter of her dream. It wasn’t all that unsettling, truth be told, and it certainly didn’t frighten her in the way she half feels it should have. Hell, she might even call it pleasant if it weren’t for the subject matter. In truth it was… shockingly mundane, actually. That worries her. Chiefly, because she has absolutely no clue what it  _ means.  _ Is it some kind of attempt to balance out the vision in Biology? To reassure her that the Cullens aren’t the threat she thinks they are? Or is it a sign that she should play along, pretend she hasn’t noticed anything out of sorts? She just doesn’t  _ know _ . All the possibilities are making her head hurt.

She flicks the light off, grabbing a pillow and crushing it against her face, stifling her groan. All these grim thoughts aren’t good for her, especially not so late. God, she can figure it out in the morning, she needs to  _ sleep _ . She damn well  _ refuses  _ to look like a complete hag tomorrow because she lacked the foresight to get a decent night’s rest. She huffs a laugh into the sweet smelling fabric. Perhaps Jacob’s right to wonder about her priorities.

*******

Arriving at school the next day is somehow both better and worse than the morning before.

Better because she knows people now. The second she hops out of the Beetle Mike is on her, cheerful grin firmly in place as he offers to walk her to class. She accepts with a laugh and they head inside, Eric materialising out of the aether to join them at some point along the way. People she met yesterday smile at her in the hallway and she grins and waves back at them, calling out greetings to those whose names she actually remembers. It’s nice. It makes her feel like a real person, instead of some kind of tragic townwide mystery.

Worse because the first-day jitters have been replaced by a darker, deeper kind of anxiety. She dreads seeing the Cullens again, terrified that a single look at one of their faces will result in another flash of  _ something _ . It makes her twitchy, nervous. She wonders if this is what Charlie had meant when he’d wondered if school might be a bit much for her yet. She can admit, if only to herself, that all of this probably isn’t great for her supposedly precarious mental state.

Mike’s voice snaps her out of her reverie. “So you in?”

Blinking, Alice turns her attention back to him. "Sorry, what?" She asks, sheepish. "Spaced out for a second there."

"Come on, Ali, get with it," Mike laughs.  _ Ali? _ Huh, that's a new one. She thinks she likes it. "You've gotta keep your head in the game around these parts, some shady characters around here, y'know." He aims an exaggerated side eye in Eric’s direction.

Alice grins at him, opening her mouth to respond before Eric cuts in. "We're planning a trip down to La Push in a few weeks," he says loudly. "Wanna come along?"

Startled by the abruptness she hesitates a little, blinking at him for a second before turning her smile in his direction. "Sure!” she answers sunnily. “I haven't been over there in a few weeks, sounds fun!"

"You've been before?" He sounds disappointed. 

"Yeah," she says, “Charlie’s good friends with Billy Black who lives on the rez, so I’ve spent a lot of time there. It’s cool, the people are really nice.”

“Oh, yeah, that’s good,” It doesn’t really sound like he means it. He slides in between her and Mike, turning to face her as they walk. “I was kinda hoping I could give you the tour though.”

Alice doesn’t really know how to respond to that – it's not like she can suddenly  _ un _ know her way around the area – so she just smiles, bobbing her head slightly.

Mike is more than happy to fill the silence. “Eh, that’s cool,” his tone is cheerful as he shoulders his way in between them, slinging an arm over both their shoulders. “She can show us all the  _ real _ local hotspots, the ones they keep hidden from us outsiders, right Alice?”

"Hmm, I don't know," she says, "Don't wanna get my status as friendly-almost-local revoked for bringing some weirdos from school around and letting them in on community secrets." She wiggles her eyebrows at them. "Not quite sure that you're worth it, you understand."

Mike lifts his arm off her shoulder to bring it to his chest, clutching at his chest dramatically as he plays at being shot. He slumps back against Eric, almost sending them careening into a wall. A group of girls that had been walking a few feet away shoot them dirty looks. 

"Mike, come on man," Eric complains as he struggles to hold them both up. He's smiling though, Alice can see it even through the long, dark curtains of his hair. She can't fight a grin of her own.

They make their way to English like that, laughing and joking all the while. When they arrive there's no question of seating arrangements as they slide into a collection of chairs near the back of the room, the boys bracketing her on either side. It makes it a bit difficult to exchange hellos with some of her friendlier acquaintances but she finds she doesn't mind all that much. Having so many people so eager to sit and spend time with her is a new thing and she can't help but revel in it, just a little. 

She'd been worried at first that no one would give her the time of day, that they'd find her weird or unsettling, but that hasn't been the case. So far, no one's even drawn any real attention to the giant, pink elephant in the room that is her memory loss. Benefits of a small town, she supposes – no one wants to be the asshole who upsets the poor, vulnerable amnesiac girl by pressing her too hard on the topic. In a school as small as this, that's the kind of thing people remember you for. She doubts it'll last, but she decides to enjoy the reprieve while she can. 

English passes much more quickly than it had yesterday. They're working on Wuthering Heights which, so far, Alice has found to be far more interesting than she was anticipating. She appreciates the darkness of the tale, as well as the love. It resonates with her in a way that none of the romantic comedies or fluffy love stories she's seen in the past year have quite managed to. 

Not that she doesn't enjoy those things, they're just… different. It isn't necessarily a  _ bad _ thing – sometimes she needs something light and simple and healthy. She just hadn't really known there were stories like this out there. Classic literature has always very much seemed to be the realm of the disenfranchised white man in her mind. Learning that there might be more to it is a freeing experience. 

So she's in a good mood as she makes her way to American History, which also turns out to be rather interesting, though it has the poor fortune to be immediately followed by Trigonometry which is decidedly less so. Her good mood manages to persist though, and by the time she's headed to her final class before lunch she's almost entirely forgotten the morning's nerves. Her day has been pleasant and Cullen-free so far, and she's determined to keep it that way for as long as possible. The prospect of Biology looms ominously in the distance but, well, she’ll cross that bridge when she gets to it. Alice is many things, most of them unknown even to her, but she likes to think she’s not a coward.

*******

Art has quickly put itself in prime position to become her favourite subject, and so when she enters the classroom it's with a skip in her step and a smile on her face. She’s found that she likes making things, creating with her hands and mind. It's cathartic, as her therapist would say, and frankly she needs that. As electives go, she’s confident she made a good choice.

The sharp, almost acrid smell of paint burns in her nostrils as she bounces over to the teacher, an attractive blonde in her early thirties by the name of Ms. Eames, presenting her with the supplies and basic outlines she’d spent most of her time in the previous lesson compiling. She hadn’t actually got to do much yesterday, had barely even been in the classroom at all since apparently the principal had decided it was unimportant enough a subject that she could afford to spend half of it in his office listening to him drone  _ on  _ and on about a whole lot of nothing. He’d spoken a lot and said little – an inane welcome speech full of vague platitudes and empty reassurances. She thinks he’d been trying to get into Charlie’s good books by appearing attentive to her needs. More's the pity though, because she's adamantly avoided mentioning the whole thing to her foster father out of sheer spite.

That doesn’t matter right now though, and she shakes the irritation off with ease, bouncing up and down on her heels. Ms. Eames smiles slightly at her clear enthusiasm, a far cry from the tight jawed almost-scowl she'd donned when Alice slunk back from the principal's office yesterday. Alice decides to take it as a win. 

"Well, everything seems to be in order," Ms. Eames says, leafing through the papers with practiced ease. "We're doing general portfolio work today, so it should give you a chance to get started on catching up with your classmates. Though to be clear, I'm not expecting your range of work to be quite as extensive considering how late on you're joining us."

Ah, yes. That. Admittedly it had kind of been by design. According to Dr. Carter she hadn't been ready to endure the intense perils of the public education system back in September, so they'd had to put her integration off for a few months. A decision that, while one she couldn't exactly disagree with, Alice has found in herself to resent deeply. It had been so  _ boring _ sitting at home and trawling half-heartedly through her online classes every day. Even Jacob, her go to in such situations, wasn’t available for her to whine at because  _ he  _ actually got to go to school, the lucky bastard. It was so unfair.

So, yeah, she'd jumped at the chance to start attending an actual, legitimate high school the very  _ second  _ she’d been given the all clear, regardless of Charlie's concerns. He'd wanted to put it off until the start of the next year, worried that the extra stress of starting halfway through the semester would do her more harm than good. Alice had been determined though. To say she was going stir crazy was an understatement, and by God she'd just wanted the chance to be  _ normal _ . The longer she spent as the weird crazy chick who was barely allowed outside the harder it'd be to shake that image. She didn't want that for herself, not even slightly. In the face of all of that it hadn't really taken Charlie long to fold like a wet paper towel.

Alice nods her understanding. "I'll do my best," she vows.

Ms. Eames' smile brightens into something a little stronger, more genuine. "I have no doubt," she says. "Why don't you go sit down? Most of the workspaces have been claimed by now, but there should be some space by Jasper in the back."

Alice stills, half smile frozen on her face. She turns to face the rest of the classroom, a tiny, cramped space even by this school's standards, and – yeah, that's him. There being another Jasper at this school was apparently just too much to hope for. 

He doesn’t look up as she glances over, his golden head curled over whatever he's working on, elegant, long fingered hands moving gracefully across the paper. Alice swallows thickly. What's he even  _ doing  _ here? She thought he was a senior! Surely this damn school isn't  _ that  _ small? Oh, who is she kidding,  _ of course _ it is. Her luck is just that bad apparently. 

There's a tightness to her throat, a nervous energy building in her chest, but she refuses to let it take hold. It's easier to force back than she'd been expecting, a mildly hysterical sort of zen quickly taking its place. She's irrationally proud of the newfound emotional control. Honestly, where the hell was this self-possession yesterday? She really could have used it in Biology.

"Alice?" Despite its prompting tone, Ms. Eames' voice is caught somewhere between irritation and concern. Belatedly Alice realises that she'd been expecting a response, whipping around to face the woman.

"Yes," she says a little too quickly, and then winces. God, this is not going the way she wanted. "I mean, yeah, that's fine. I'll just, uh, head over there." It takes physical effort not to let herself cringe. She hears someone snort softly behind her and feels her cheeks stain a bright pink. The only thing stopping her from turning back around to give the perpetrator a truly nasty scowl is the deeply unimpressed cast to her teacher's face.

Ms. Eames gives her a flat look. "You do that." Well, there goes that good impression. Alice bites back the childish urge to stamp her feet. It probably wouldn't help her 'I am a mature almost adult who is capable of functioning in normal society' campaign.

She's a bit ashamed to admit to the way she all but scurries across the room, keeping her head angled low. Her classmates watch her as she goes by. None of them attempt to speak to her. It would put her in the mind of the stifling atmosphere of her English class yesterday morning except it's… warmer somehow. There's an easy calm to the place that makes the quiet feel more companionable, the stares less judgemental. It soothes her, easing her back down from her state of half-frenzied embarrassment. 

She's halfway across the room before she realises Ms. Eames hadn't actually told her who Jasper was and her cheeks flush all over again. Maybe she just assumed that everyone in town knew who the Cullens were? Even random, spaced out new girls? They aren't exactly an inconspicuous group, admittedly. Still, the surety with which she makes her way over to him might seem a bit odd, or at the very least make it look like she's a terrible gossip. Which isn't wholly untrue, but  _ still _ . There can't actually be another Jasper in this class can there? God, Alice hopes not. That’d be mortifying.

She makes her way over to an empty workspace. To say that it's next to Jasper Cullen's desk wouldn't exactly be true; it's arranged at an angle, a little forward and a little to the left. No one protests when she deposits her stuff on the table, so she assumes that she has, in fact, actually gone to the right place. Thank God.

In a tragic mirror of the previous day, she keeps her eyes low as she arranges her things, taking slow, steadying breaths as she attempts to muster her nerves. She chances a quick glance at Jasper out of the corner of her eye, only to find him still entirely focused on the page in front of him. Embarrassed, Alice realises that she'd half expected him to be looking back at her, which is stupid. Why would he be? Just because she’s got some kind of freaky fixation on his terrifying family doesn't mean he even knows who the hell she is. Five seconds of eye contact across the cafeteria does not a connection make.

But… maybe she should be trying to build it into one? Her dream lingers in the back of mind, a constant quiet shadow over her thoughts, its guidance frustratingly unclear. Befriending Jasper, or at least being on good enough terms with him to be invited into his family's home(?), seems to be the way to go. Or at the very least seems to be the path she's currently on. But is that because it's the best course of action? Or just because she had the dream in the first place? Which came first, the chicken or the egg? God, just thinking about it is making her head hurt. 

If nothing else, the dream doesn't seem to suggest anything  _ bad  _ will come from pursuing a... friendship feels too strong a word. (An acquaintanceship maybe? A cautious pact of mutual non-aggression? She’ll work on it.) Or at least nothing immediately life threatening. Her dreams are usually very good at warning her of things like that, historically speaking. 

_ Oh, fuck it _ , she thinks finally, steeling herself. She straightens her spine as she twists in her seat to face the older boy. “Hello,” she says, voice chock full of as much cheer as she can muster. “I’m Alice! I’m new here.”

Jasper is quiet for a long moment before he responds. For a second she thinks he might ignore her altogether. “I noticed,” His voice is dry, vaguely amused – but just as lovely as she recalls from her dream. It has the same almost musical quality despite its low register, the same subdued accent curling at its edges. She likes it far more than she should. He glances up at her through his eyelashes. “Jasper.” He adds after a moment, when it becomes clear she isn't going to let the lack of an introduction go without a fight.

Alice grins,“It’s nice to meet you!” 

"And you," it sounds more like a dismissal than anything else. Not that she was expecting overwhelming genuineness, but still. Rude. She'll just have to try harder.

"You're pretty new too, right?" She leans around to get a better look at him, smile widening when his eyes flick up again and meet hers.

"Yes," his voice is more clipped this time, the dismissal less gentle. Alice forces back a sudden surge of nerves as she pushes on. 

She hums lightly in the back of her throat. "You came from Alaska right? What's it like there?"

"Cold," he says, the word itself clearly reflected in his own tone of voice. There's a certain hardness to his eyes as he speaks, an unspoken irritation lingering in the air around him. The room seems to drop a few degrees in temperature. It makes the hairs on the back of her neck stand on end. Alice swallows thickly. It's probably best to back off for now she decides quickly, resisting the urge to wring her hands. A more clear warning to disengage she has never encountered.

She gives Jasper one last slightly tremulous smile. "Cool," she says with careful lightness. "Well, talk to you later, I guess."

She gets little more than a grunt of acknowledgement in return, as she turns to properly face her own desk again.  _ Well,  _ she thinks, suppressing a borderline hysterical giggle,  _ that could have gone better _ . 

*******

The door to the Biology classroom looms above her, far more intimidating than any shitty wooden rectangle has any right to be. It’s painted a truly ghastly shade of teal, and honestly what is it with this school and dreadful design choices? First that orange carpet in the main office and now this? It’s disgraceful. An insult to anyone with any amount of taste everywhere, and frankly it shouldn’t be–

“Alice?” 

She jumps, whirling around to face the speaker. Angela and Mike stand behind her, the former eyeing her with clear concern. She's obviously the speaker, her face painted with a gentle kind of sympathy. Mike, on the other hand, dons a broad grin, eyebrows raised high on his forehead in clear amusement. Alice scowls at him instinctively, already knowing she’s going to hate whatever comes out of his mouth.

"Now, now Ali, what did that poor door ever do to you?" His voice is obnoxious in its teasing.

Alice's frown deepens. "Oh, don't  _ even _ ," she complains. He just laughs, the asshole. God, she doesn't even know why she likes him.  _ Eric  _ would never treat her like this. She tells him as much too, but it just makes him laugh harder, and for a moment she seriously considers just launching her books at his head. Angela seems to know what she's thinking too, because she steps in to calm the situation.

Her lips twitch as she reaches out to whack Mike sharply on the arm in reprimand. The blonde shoots her a wounded look, laughter still lingering in the lines about his mouth. Angela pays him no mind. "Are you alright Alice?" She asks kindly. "You left lunch in a bit of a hurry. Jess and Eric were worried."

The concern warms her, probably to an unreasonable degree. Still, Alice can't help the smile that pulls at her lips. "I'm good," she reassures. "Just psyching myself up for another hour with Cullen."

Angela's eyes soften in understanding, even as Mike winces beside her. "Oh, yeah, that," he says. "I saw you guys yesterday. Did you stab him or something? I don't think I've ever seen him look that uncomfortable in my  _ life _ ."

Alice bristles. "What makes you think  _ I _ did something?" 

"Cullen's Cullen," Mike responds philosophically, "And you're you. Just makes sense."

It most assuredly does _not_ , but Alice finds herself feeling offended anyway. She shoots her friend a dark look. "Oh, _whatever,_ " she scoffs, turning on her heel and stalking into the classroom. She hears Mike snickering behind her and her scowl deepens. Honestly, just see if she ever talks to him again. She’s hot shit right now she could find a new group _easy_. She flounces over to her empty desk, slinging her her stuff across it unceremoniously and sitting down with a huff. 

Someone clears their throat behind her. "Are you alright?" 

Alice whips around to find Edward Cullen staring back at her, his handsome features pulled into a sympathetic, if vaguely uncomfortable, smile. Jesus  _ Christ _ , how long has he been standing there? Did he hear them talking outside? She feels suddenly, inexplicably guilty for complaining about him, which is ridiculous. All she did was imply that he's hard work to sit next to – which he  _ is. _ He’s goddamn terrifying.

Edward's smile falters slightly and she realises that she's just spent an uncomfortable amount of time staring blankly at him like a moron. God, she needs to get it together. This is starting to become an issue. 

"Uh, yeah I'm good," it comes out awkward but not overtly frightened, which Alice thinks is the best she can realistically hope for. 

Edward's face relaxes back into that friendly smile. "I'm glad to hear it," he says as he moves to take his own seat. "I'm Edward Cullen. I'm sorry I didn't introduce myself yesterday. You're Alice, right?"

"That's me," she manages a small smile in return. God, but this was so much easier in Art this morning. Why is it suddenly so difficult? Objectively, Edward is far less intimidating than Jasper but something about him just sets her off. She can't even pinpoint what about him unsettles her so (besides the obvious), just that it  _ does _ . It's incredibly inconvenient. "It's nice to meet you."

"Likewise."

Alice all but sags in relief when Mr. Banner chooses that moment to start talking. She has no clue how she would've continued that conversation and frankly she's glad she doesn't have to try to figure it out. A soft snort sounds beside her and she gives Edward a  _ look _ from the corner of her eye. God but he's weird, and that's coming from her. At least  _ she _ doesn't sit in class laughing at nothing. She imagines Jake hearing her make that argument and wants to bury her head in her hands. Honestly, this degree of stress just isn’t good for her.

Class is… surprisingly normal actually. Edward doesn't speak much to her for most of the lesson, but whenever he catches her eye he makes sure to give her another one of those friendly little smiles and Alice can't help but return the favour. He's not so bad actually, not in small doses at least. By the time the bell rings she can almost relax in his presence. Exposure therapy at its finest, she supposes. Regardless, she isn’t dreading seeing his face again like she was this time yesterday, which can only be a plus.

He shoots her another grin as he stands to leave. "See you tomorrow, partner?"

"I have no choice in the matter," Alice says, and then realises, belatedly, that that probably wasn’t the best joke to make to a guy she has had literally half a conversation with after spending an hour the previous day flinching away from him in obvious fear. He must think she’s deranged. Edward just laughs though, the first genuine one she's heard from him, and Alice feels her breath catch in her throat. 

He's beautiful, she realises dazedly. Not that she hadn't known that before, but there's something utterly striking about him in this moment, whites of his teeth flashing in the overhead lights, eyes crinkling at the corners in mirth. She doesn't have to look around to know that he's caught every eye in the room. She tries to make her heart stop its frantic beating in her chest.

"It was nice meeting you, Alice." She stares dumbly after him, still frozen. She doesn’t even know how long she sits there, wondering what the hell just happened before she snaps out of it. 

"What was that about?" Mike demands, having siddled up beside her at some point in the interim. "I thought you guys didn't like each other?"

Alice snaps out of her daze, blinking. She whips around, giving him a superior look. "I'm a delight," she informs him, “of course he likes me.” Even though she herself has no real idea what changed between this afternoon and the last. She wasn’t the only one being weird yesterday, after all. But... maybe Plan Befriend the Cullens isn't such a bust after all.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> so hey guys, i'm back! sorry this took so long rip. i had the bad foresight to start this thing just before exam season, but that's over with now, so hopefully i'll be able to pick up the pace! but anyway jasper's here now!! yay! he didn't do much but he has bee forcibly made aware of alice's existence!
> 
> honestly parts of this chapter were like pulling teeth and its all his fault. i powered through 4k in like two days but i was ramming my head against the brick fucking wall that was that god forsaken art room scene for a literal age. he's so hard to write! like honestly what does he get off being so complicated, it's infuriating. with edward at least i can look through the books if i get stuck but jasper is in like five scenes total. it's a goddamn travesty, and not just bc it makes it hard to get a grasp of his canonical character. like why do you hate me so much stephanie ://
> 
> i mean this chapter ended up being like 1.5k longer than planned regardless but still. 
> 
> honestly tho guys, thank you so much for all the comments! this got way more attention than i expected it to, and all the encouragement was honestly so nice. i'll try to keep it coming!
> 
> again, i'm justhaletwinsthings on tumblr so feel free to hmu!


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